


Watching Me, Watching You

by flipflop_diva



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Protective Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-01
Updated: 2015-03-01
Packaged: 2018-03-15 17:50:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3456329
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is pretty sure that someone is watching him. Despite all evidence to the contrary. Set post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Watching Me, Watching You

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [Pic for 1,000](http://picfor1000.livejournal.com), where the goal was to write an exactly 1,000-word fic. This photo was my inspiration prompt:
> 
>  

He feels like someone's watching him. The way the back of his neck prickles and the hairs on his arms stand on edge. But no one is there. And no one has been there since the feeling started earlier this morning. 

He feels like maybe he's going crazy, like the stress of everything has finally gotten to him, as he searches his apartment, searches outside and in the buildings around him, as his eyes scan the rooftops and the cars and the people, looking for something. For someone. 

But no one is there. 

Just everyday people going about their everyday lives, like their worlds haven't just shattered at their feet. 

(Theirs haven't.)

He heads back home after checking his whole block, the feeling of being watched more intense than ever, and spots the stray black cat that often sits on the stoop, the one Sharon used to feed when he thought she was just a nurse, before he knew she was an agent and before she became a friend and a CIA operative and moved into another apartment closer to work. 

"I think you can handle yourself," she smiled, the day she packed the last of her things and closed the full trunk. 

He'd laughed and nodded and took her to dinner and helped her unpack. 

The cat looks at him now, like it knows all his secrets, and he is tempted to ask it who is watching him, because despite the lack of evidence, his gut is usually pretty accurate, but he doesn't. Instead he scratches its head and goes inside and settles on the couch to watch TV in an apartment that is somehow too silent, too big and too constraining. 

He wonders if maybe it's Bucky. He and Sam have turned over every lead and only found dead ends. He has to be out there somewhere, but Steve doesn't know where. 

He wishes it were Bucky watching him, but he knows that is unlikely. It is much more likely to be SHIELD. Or Hydra. Or even the U.S. government. 

A lot of people think Steve is naive, but he's not naive enough to think everything ended the day the Triskelion fell. He knows somewhere somehow there is still a SHIELD, knows Fury isn't really leaving that all behind, knows Hydra is everywhere, knows Hydra still wants him. Steve knows that in all senses of the word, there is no true escape. There never will be. 

This is the thought that rolls over and over in his mind as he dozes off to a late-night comedian making fun of a world he doesn’t find all that amusing these days, and this is the thought that is center of his mind when he wakes to a creak that is not the usual creak of buildings settling.

He is instantly alert, hand going automatically to the shield that never truly leaves his reach, but the apartment is dark and he can’t see anything in the shadows.

Then he hears it. A faint breath. Not detectable to normal human ears, but there has been nothing normal about Steve for decades.

He’s on his feet in an instant. He knows exactly where the breath came from. There is no fear or panic, just anger at his apartment being invaded and acceptance that it had to happen sometime and maybe a tiny bit of triumph (he _knew_ someone was watching him).

He leaps forward, reaches out, fingers grabbing roughly at the arm of the person now inside his apartment. A moan fills the air. Not loud, not long, but enough that the fear and panic that had been non-existent five seconds ago suddenly start thrumming loudly in his chest as he fumbles for the light switch.

“Natasha?” he whispers, but even before he can see her, he knows it’s her. And he knows something’s wrong.

Something is wrong.

She’s standing before him pale and shaky and he can see rivulets of sweat on her face.

“Hi,” she manages, when he catches her eyes, and then she topples forward, straight into his arms, her face hitting his chest, her legs no longer capable of holding her upright.

His arms instantly tighten around her. She’s burning up, and once she’s pressed against him, he can feel the dampness of her clothes from sweat. 

His heart aches as lifts her up and carries her into the bedroom. He finds an old pair of pajamas that are much too big for her that he helps her change into, and then he tucks her gently into bed. She stares at him through bleary eyes and looks like she wants to say something, but he shushes her and brushes her hair off her face and tells her to just sleep. 

He’s a little surprised when she doesn’t argue, but he takes her hand and holds it and waits till she does.

He wonders where she’s been hiding all day, because he thought he looked everywhere and he didn’t see a sign, but then he remembers who she is and what she does and of course she can hide from him if she wants. Still, he can’t help but be impressed that she managed to allude him even while sick, even though at the same time he can’t help but be furious at her for not just calling him to tell him she was sick and ask if she could come over. He’s also angry he spent the day worried about Hydra when he should have been worried about her.

But this is Natasha and she never does anything the easy way or the normal way and he knows that asking someone to help her (or admitting she doesn’t want to be alone) is the last thing she would ever want to do. So he considers it an honor she came to him at all and spends the rest of the night holding her hand.

She watched him all day, he decides. He might as well return the favor.


End file.
